


i will come home in time

by lemonadelaughter



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: 'i guess'. it's literally about that, Drabble, it's about what home means to them i guess, kind of? i'm not sure how to describe this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonadelaughter/pseuds/lemonadelaughter
Summary: "Once we're done collecting the Relics, you'll get to go home."Or: Tres Horny Boys think about how they'd describe 'home'. For one of them, it's easy. For the others, not so much.(Or: WOW is this fic outdated in the canon of the show now. Thought it'd be best to give that as a quick warning before you start.)





	

_“Once we are done collecting the Relics, you’ll get to go home.”_

It’s been four hours since the boys came back from a short mission - nothing serious; just inspecting an area where a potential Relic could be, to no avail - and The Director told them this, chin perched on a hammock made from her smooth hands, in the middle of one of her infamous speeches. They’d all nodded, all gotten up and headed back to their rooms, thinking about that one line - no, one _word_ \- in particular.

Home.

They’d been with the Bureau so long, they hadn’t really thought about what would happen to them once everything was over. Once the Relics had been destroyed and they weren’t needed any more. It made all three of them uneasy, if they were being honest. Would they see each other again? Would they stay in touch? Or would they drift apart like all old friends, until nothing but scars and bittersweet memories that made each of them smile to themselves were left? They kid themselves that of course they’d stay in touch as they head off in their own directions after the meeting, that there’s no way they’d ever let go of each other after all the shit they’d been through as a trio. 

But that’s what every friend thinks, even when the farspeech calls stop coming, and the half-hearted “I’ll visit you!” promises seem less likely with each glance to the window on a morning. Maybe they’ll just be like every other glass-eyed memory.

**\---**

Merle sits in his room, watching his arm as the vines and bark twist around each other, violent pops of colour emerging as bulbs burst open before his eyes. He doesn’t know why, but there’s something comforting deep in his stomach about just sitting here and watching his fingers knot and bloom. It reminds him that he’s keeping something beautiful with him at all times. It reminds him Pan’s always there, and while he wishes he didn’t have to lose his goddamn arm to get this reminder, he’s…thankful. 

Home, for him, is easy. It’s the beach town he was born and raised in, the one he’d still say he lives in now. Sure, it’s much more awkward nowadays, what with trying to stay away from Hekuba and trying not to let down his kids more than he already has, but. There’s no denying that there’s nothing more familiar to him than sand between his toes and saltwater rushing around his ankles, hugging them tight like a favourite pair of socks. Merle closes his eyes, pictures the sunset bleeding pink-orange-red across the sky, practically hears the ocean, roaring and not caring who he is or what he’s done. _That’s home,_ he thinks, interlocking wooden fingers with flesh and bone. _That’s home._

**\---**

Magnus is looking up at the tank of the Voidfish, his features illuminated by the magentas and violets and stars, which spin and weave galaxies into the jellyfish’s bell. It’s silent, apart from the hum of the tank and the familiar rhythm of his own breathing. While Magnus loves the warmth of other people around him, and finds comfort in the background noise of bustling townsfolk heading on their merry ways, he’s learned to also love _this_. This enveloping silence, where there’s nothing but his thoughts and the forgotten thoughts of thousands in this dark, dark room. 

Home’s a bit more difficult to define for Magnus. Because it was her, wasn’t it? It was her soft, kind eyes and the gap in her teeth and the way her laugh sounded like the chiming of bells. It was the feel of her hand closing around his and the hushed tones of her voice, telling him the stories of her day just before they fell asleep and the challenge in a raised eyebrow and a smirk. It was…it was Julia, and now she’s not here and neither is anything else he would even begin to consider to call his home, it’s not all here and it’s because of him. 

Magnus sometimes (okay, a lot of the time) pictures what it would’ve been like if he hadn’t have gone to that competition. If he’d have been at the shop when his world crumbled to ash and dust around him, crushing him with it. If he’d have got to squeeze Julia’s hand tight as they both accepted their tragic, gruesome fate, closing their eyes and imagining a place where they could raise a family together before searing pain and nothingness. If he’d have gotten to die with the only person he truly, deeply loved.

Sometimes he wishes. But then he remembers he would never have met Merle or Taako if he’d have died there, and he stops wishing.

Maybe they're his home now.

**\---**

Taako’s the only one of them who isn’t alone; in fact, he’s sitting on the bed of the boy detective himself, watching him try to cast Dancing Lights. At least, it looks like he’s watching - Angus can tell Taako’s staring off into some equidistance pointed at Angus’s pudgy hands, but he’s big enough to know not to pry into business that isn’t his own. But he’s worried, because Taako’s chewing at his nails and his eyebrows are furrowed with something just teetering on the edge of sadness, and he really cares for Taako, and he -

Angus shakes his head to knock out the nosiness, and goes back to concentrating on the cantrip. 

Taako’s thinking about how he doesn’t know what home is.

He thought he used to, in the wagon with Sazed and the plethora of ingredients and spellbooks. He lets himself fondly remember the fleeting seconds of nerves and adrenaline and fear behind the curtain each night, and the late nights spent sat atop the parked wagon, looking up at the stars above them and talking about the success of the show, the future of what they could be. 

And then he lets himself remember Glamorsprings and the sounds of people choking on their own blood and the screams and the pounding footsteps and the racing heartbeat and the pulsating thoughts of murder and punishment and, and losing everything he’d ever known, and, and waking up and finding Sazed had gone, and, and. 

Home’s just a boat on the horizon, blurred and fuzzy and unfamiliar. That’s home to Taako, right now. 

But every boat heads to shore, doesn’t it? Every boat sinks its anchor into the seabed. That’s what Taako keeps reminding himself, even when the word ‘home’ makes him taste blood in his mouth. 

He’s snapped out of his headspace by the excited yells of “I did it, Taako, look!” from Angus and, sure enough, the boy’s managed to cause glowing orbs of light to float around him to an unheard rhythm, a grin of pure glee lighting up his face more than the glow ever could. Taako feels his own grin spread onto his face, and says “Well shit, pumpkin, isn’t this something?”

He’ll know the definition of home someday. He’s sure of it. Being at the Bureau, and seeing Angus beaming with joy (and imagining Kravitz’s smile), makes him sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> hey look, my first taz-work! i had a lot of fun with this one. and by 'fun' i mean "i listened to home by madeon (where the title of the fic comes from!) on repeat for the entire time i wrote this and cried a little". i love these boys, man.  
> i'd love any feedback you can give me! even if it's "this sucks balls my dude". i'll appreciate it. i guess?
> 
> i'm on twitter (@lilstur) and tumblr (@campcampbell) if you want to follow me there! i'll take all the taz mutuals i can get, honestly.  
> thanks for reading!  
> <3


End file.
